Chapter Text
5 Seconds
(Chapter 31 of Perfectly Imperfect - Episode 606)
1 - 25 Seconds
Mesmerized, he watched Betty crawl up his body, eager to straddle him on his bed. This was happening, this was really happening.
The ringtone of her cellphone broke the magic. Betty hesitated, clearly torn.
Or not. He got it though. She was an FBI agent and co-parenting two ten years old orphans. He nodded. “Take it. It could be important.”
With a rueful smile she reached to the back pocket of her jeans for her phone. “Yes?”, she said, her eyes not leaving his, her smile not dimming, her free hand stroking over his abs.
Until she stopped, her eyes widening, her face losing color. Alarmed, he propped himself up onto his elbows. Her eyes met his.
"We have to go. Now!"
He tensed at the sudden fear in Betty’s eyes as her phone slipped from her hand. "Why?"
"The caller said there's a bomb under your bed."
Archie didn't question this, just snapped into action by rolling off the bed and drop to the floor to check beneath it. His heart stopped when he saw that indeed, there was a fucking bomb.
With a timer. With only 5 seconds left. Not enough time to even get out of the room. Or disarm it.
Five.
He could just try rip out one of the wires, but that would at best be a Hail Mary and definitely not something his buddies from the bomb squad would ever recommend. Most likely it would only trigger it to explode even sooner than those five seconds.
Having read on his face that this was no prank, Betty grabbed his arm, pulling him up. "The bathtub!"
Four.
Yeah, the bathtub could give them a fighting chance. But again … "Not enough time", he told her, his voice dead with resignation and fear, causing her eyes to widen with the same fear and realization.
They were probably going to die. He couldn't see a way out for them.
Still. He had to try to at least save Betty.
Three.
Not losing any precious seconds with explanations or discussions or any words, he simply grabbed her and pulled her over to the wall farest away from his bed. There he enveloped her into a tight embrace, pressing her face against his chest and dropped to the floor with her by kicking out her legs under her. Catching her fall, he pushed her with his entire body against the wall and covered her head as well as he could with his hands, his arms pressing against her sides in his desperate try to shield her body with his as best as he could.
Two.
"What are you doing? Arch! No!", she screamed against his chest, fighting for him to loosen his iron grip on her.
But he only tightened his grip, scooting even closer to her, anything to reduce any possible distance between them. Probably, it wasn't going to be enough to save her. But it was the one single chance he saw for her, as small as it was.
His soul was screaming at the unfairness of it all. There they were, finally together, finally happy, finally free to start a life together in every sense of the way - and now they were going to die?
Worse, Betty was going to die because she was with him? Because he had invited her over to ask her to try again, all in this time?
One.
"I'm sorry", he whispered, closing his eyes, burying his face in her hair.
At least he was going to die with Betty in his arms. It always had been the only way he had wanted to leave this world. Just not like this. Not this soon, with never having had a chance to make love to her, marry her, start a family with her.
Not with her dying in his arms at the same time.
Zero.
The world exploded around him. He screamed, the sound silent against the boom of the blast. The shock wave rocked them, slamming into him, slamming them against the wall. Fire and debris rained over them.
Everything went dark.
One.
Everything went glistening white. His chest hurt as - against all odds and expectation - he took another breath, breathing in fire and incense. The world burned. But he was still breathing, his heart beating wildly in his chest. And Betty's heart still beat, him able to feel it pulsing against his chest.
Two.
Still, he waited for a heartbeat, sure the raging inferno around them had to claim his life at least.
But nothing happened. He wasn’t ripped to pieces. Wasn’t burned to crisps. Wasn’t suffocating because of lack of oxygen just like all the carbon monoxide wasn’t poisoning him.
He breathed. He wasn’t feeling any pain.
How?
Three.
In his arms, Betty squirmed. Coughing. Whimpering.
It snapped him into action. How they were still alive wasn’t important for the moment. All that mattered right now was to stay alive.
Meaning they had to get out.
Now.
Four.
He raised his head, blinking at the smoke and fire engulfing his room, making it impossible to see anything. He felt the heat of the fire pressing against his skin but that was all. No agony as his flesh burned.
Betty’s coughing against his chest got worse and he realized that unlike him, she was close to suffocating. Which meant that most likely, the fire could also burn her.
Shit.
Five.
Keeping her pressed as tightly as humanly possible to his body, he got to his feet, cradling her in his arms, his hand keeping her head buried against his neck even though she tried to lift it. He desperately wanted to cover her with something, anything, but everything in his room was burning.
How could he get her out unharmed? He stepped through what once was the wall of his room, out into hallway. He still couldn’t see anything, but he felt the walls crumbling around them. Even if the stairs still stood, something he doubted, he wasn’t sure he could get Betty down and out in time, without her either suffocating or suffering some serious burns.
He looked back into his room, another idea popping up in his head. One absolutely desperate and insane and suicidal.
But he could see no other choice. Not if Betty was to get out of his burning house alive.
His hold on her tightened even more and she groaned.
Six.
With a roar, he charged back into his room, crossed it with as much speed as he could gain and jumped out of the remains of his window.
Once they were airborne, he twisted his body so he would break the fall for her. As long as he didn’t hit the ground with his head or neck, he should survive the fall, only breaking some bones, maybe his back in the worst case. It was only the second story after all. And it should save Betty.
That was all he cared about.
His side hit the ground and he rolled them, once again covering Betty with his body to protect her from falling burning debris.
Seven.
He panted, the fresh air, though thick with smoke, burning its way down to his lungs. Things rained down onto his back and he closed his eyes, anticipating the pain to finally catching up with him, figuring his mind had maybe somehow blocked out what the fire had done to his body or the initial blast maybe simply having had annihilated all his nerve endings, making him feel invulnerable while in reality, he was a walking dead.
He hadn’t just heard about a horrible condition like that, he’d seen it in war.
But again, nothing happened.
Eight.
“Arch? Arch!” Betty coughed and sputtered, but pushed against him, stemming herself against him.
He didn’t budge, just brushed his lips over her forehead. “Shhh. Keep still. Just for a little while.” Already the objects hitting his back were getting less and less. He figured it would be safe to get up and move further away within a few seconds.
“No! We need to move! I won’t let you sacrifice yourself again.” This time, the force with which she pushed against him was enough to lift him up to roll away from under him.
“Betty!” Panicked, he reached for her to get her back under the protection of his body, but she was faster than him, already on her knees, pulling him up along with her.
Shit. Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up onto her feet, pushing her in front of him as they stumbled towards her house.
Nine.
Reaching a further circle outside of the blast radius, the air immediately got much fresher and cleaner and apart of some sparks from the fire floating through the air, they were safe from the falling debris. Panting, Betty stopped, bending over, holding her side as she coughed and gagged violently.
“Betty!” Alarmed he caught up with her, holding her upright as he rubbed over her back, fear once again clamping in an iron grip around his heart. As a firefighter he was only too well aware that even out of the fire, one wasn’t out of the woods yet, the fiery air they had breathed in still able to do serious damage to their airways and lungs, even killing them still. “We need to get you oxygen ASAP. And then get you to the hospital.”
Ten.
But already, Betty straightened, shaking her head. “I’m fine”, she gasped, laying a hand over his heart.
His eyes narrowed. “The hell you are! You were just in a house that exploded and burned!”
“So were you”, she pointed out, her voice rough, her having to clear it several times, but not coughing as badly anymore. Her eyes roamed over him, her other hand running over the naked but unburned skin of his arms before she turned him slightly to also ran her hands over his back that felt as unharmed as his arms. “You’re fine.”
It was more of a statement than a question, but she was definitely as confused about this as he was. He shrugged. “Yeah?”
Eleven.
They stared at each other before turning as one towards his house, watching how the flames succeededaly engulfed the remaining structure that hadn’t been blown away by the blast.
Betty’s hand slipped to the low of his back. “Oh God, Arch. Your house …”
Yeah. He wasn’t feeling it yet. But he had no doubts the feelings would come at some point. For now, the only thing that mattered was them having made it out alive. The house could be rebuilt. Their lives though couldn’t be restored. He thought. It still wasn’t clear to him how they were still alive. He pulled her against him, kissing her temple, having a hard time to believe his luck. “It’s okay. You’re here. That’s all that’s important.”
Twelve.
She hugged him tightly. “Yes”, she breathed.
Breathing out, he watched the fire destroy the main building. He had been right to risk the jump, they would never had made it downstairs and out the door, it already burning completely.
Thank God Uncle Frank had been working, covering the night shift over at the firehouse. With a heavy heart he thought of Bingo though, who had been downstairs somewhere. Part of him wanted to race back inside to go look for him, but he knew he couldn’t. Even if he wasn’t dead already, as unlikely as that was, there was no going back in and surviving it. At least not without protection gear. They had just survived this inferno through a miracle. He wasn’t going to throw that away for a dog that most likely was already dead. Or maybe he had somehow made it out. It was possible, dogs were canny like that.
Still. It took a lot to stay put, watching how the flames started to jump over to the garage, where all the windows had been blown out.
Thirteen.
He felt his blood freeze as his eyes widened. “God, Jug!”
Had his roommate already been back from his dinner with Tabitha and Pop? He had no idea, he had had only focused on having Betty over, nervous the whole evening about asking her to give him, them, another try. He had paid absolutely no attention to the comings and goings of Jughead.
He had to make sure he wasn’t trapped in the garage! Letting go of Betty he moved forward, only slowing when he felt Betty at his back. “No!” He shouted over his shoulder. “You stay back here.”
Fourteen.
Her eyes were wide, her face pale and incredulous. “But …”
“I’m the firefighter here. You stay put or even better go inside, make sure your mom called the station already.” His eyes met hers, even as he was running towards the garage. “Your mom and the twins need you”, he reminded her bluntly before he turned completely around, racing towards the garage, his heart pounding.
Please, let him not have been home.
Fifteen.
He burst through the door. The smoke inside wasn’t as bad as it had been in the house, but it definitely had filled the room as well, making the air thick and dipping everything in grey.
His heart sank when he heard coughing from further inside.
Shit. Jughead had been home after all. “Jug! Juggie!”
He moved further inside, trying to orient himself and determine from where he had heard the coughing.
No need. There he came stumbling through the smoke towards him. Rushing forward, he assisted him, slinging his arm over his shoulder and together they made their way outside.
Sixteen.
They stumbled across the lawn towards the Cooper’s house where Betty was pacing, rushing forward when she saw them coming out, moving to Jughead’s other side to help speed the last feet towards safety up. His lungs burning from the mad dash inside and back out, he let Jughead go, bending forward to lean his hands on his knees, gulping in the fresh air.
Betty rushed to his side, her hands roaming over his sides and back. “Arch? You guys okay?”, she asked, glancing at Jughead as she kept her arm around his middle.
Seventeen.
Jughead stared with wide eyes from them to the burning house, his face pale. “Archie? Betty? What the hell happened?”
Panting rapidly, he straightened, his arm sneaking around Betty’s hip, holding her close to him, reassuring himself that she and Jughead and he were still alive.
In the distance, he could here sirens, coming closer fast. Good. They needed the fire truck. And Tom.
Eighteen.
“A bomb”, he answered, feeling himself starting to seethe, now that the immediate danger was over for the moment. “Under my bed.”
“Who would hate you so much to plant a bomb? Not just in your house, but under your bed?”, Betty asked, staring at him. Her wide eyes narrowed to slits as she answered her question herself. “It’s too personal to be the Ghoulies.”
He agreed, his free hand fisting, his other on her hip cradling her closer. “Hiram”, he spat.
Nineteen.
It had to have been him. Hiram Lodge always had it out for him, only his relationship with Veronica or him being out of the country keeping him more or less in check. But now, after he and Veronica were over for good? After kicking him out of town, with Veronica leading the joint removal committee?
He guessed now he was fair game.
And her dad hadn’t lost any time to execute his revenge.
Almost taking out Betty and Jughead right along with him.
Twenty.
He was going to kill him.
It was one thing to go after him. Even blowing up his house with his dog in it was something he maybe could look past.
But showing no regard for the lives of Jughead and Uncle Frank, both living with him, by choosing to take him out with a fucking bomb instead of just dropping him with a clean shot or something like that?
This complete disregard of who else got caught as collateral damage in the blast of the bomb? Even if Betty hadn’t been with him because he had invited her over, the blast could very well also have damaged his neighbors’ houses, especially the Cooper House. Debris from his house could have shot as dangerous missiles into their house, hitting Alice, Betty or the twins. Or their windows could have blown out too, the glass shards doing serious damage. He looked at their house, relieved to see that it seemed intact at least from what he could see. Still, that was pure luck. And the fire could still jump over from his house to the houses surrounding his if the fire truck didn’t show up soon in order to douse the fire.
No. Hiram Lodge had not only crossed the line - he had blown it up and left it so far behind, there was no walking it back anymore. No more forgiving.
The sirens blared and they heard screeching tires in front of his house, shouts and screams startling to pierce through the roar of the fire.
Betty turned to hug him tightly, burying her head against his neck. He could feel her shaking in his arms. Closing his eyes, he clung to her as tightly as she to him, burying his head in her neck in return, finally allowing himself a moment to let go and let realization sink in.
Yeah. Through some miracle they were all alive, the only victims his house and probably Bingo.
His grip on Betty tightened.
The key word being miracle. Ronnie’s dad had almost killed Betty and so many more than just him in his blind hatred. That was unforgivable.
He was going to die for that. Archie was going to make sure of that himself.
*